Songs of the Eternal Past- Complete Trilogy

by C S Vass

  “There is the possibility, Fiona, that if Jet and his allies are not careful, then they may depose Raejo only to find themselves in a much worse situation. They must be cautious. They must never forget Greythor, even if they choose not to follow him.”

  “I will tell him,” Fiona said. “I will make sure he understands. I swear it.”

  A look of deep peace settled over Harken’s face. “The pain recedes,” he said. “I am ready. You have my blessing Fiona. I ask you one last request. I apologize. One only remembers some of the most important things at the end, it would seem.”

  “Anything.”

  “Have my body burned. Place my ashes with my wife’s. Once we are mingled, scatter us in the garden.”

  “It will be done,” Fiona promised. “She’s waiting for you, even now.”

  Tears dripped from Harken’s eyes. “I have never been so foolish as to desire death, Fiona. But now that it is here… oh, I cannot wait to greet her. My sweet… my Laelia.”

  Harken closed his eyes and breathed his last. Fiona had never seen such a content look on a man’s face.

  When there was no more that she could do she went Geoff’s side. The old knight had been ignored in his bed by the intruders. He had slipped back into fever, but his breathing was steady and there seemed to be no immediate danger. Once she was certain he was okay for the moment, she cleaned Harken’s body as best she could, covered his wound, and placed him in new clothes.

  Jet returned sometime after, near dawn. He was covered in blood and had at least a dozen tiny wounds over his body. He told her that the fighting was over, for now, and casualties on both sides were low. The rebel took the news of his father’s passing calmly and with a forlorn demeanor. He thanked Fiona for being there with his father when he could not and took Harken’s final words with gravity.

  The two of them gathered a great deal of dry wood, stacked it carefully, and Jet scented it with oils derived from plants in his father’s garden. They stood side by side, hand in hand watching Harken’s body burn in the misty darkness. The ashes were gathered carefully and mixed into the urn that contained Laelia.

  Together, as a cooling wind passed through the garden, they scattered Jet’s parents into their final resting place while the first light of dawn rose to meet them.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Jet requested some time by himself in the garden. Fiona was happy to allow him the personal space. Her left shoulder throbbed worse than ever, and she was eager to change out of her clothes and do what she could to tend to her wounds.

  Jet, however, had come into the house for something when he saw her wincing in pain and trying to remove her tunic. She tried to wave it off, but he insisted on seeing to her before going back outside.

  “It’s really nothing,” she said.

  “Your shoulder is dislocated,” Jet pointed out, frowning. “Were you just going to go around like that from now on?”

  Fiona was slightly embarrassed from the matter-of-fact way that Jet diagnosed her injury, but the thought of her shoulder being disconnected made her want to squirm and she wasn’t about to pass up the opportunity for some help.

  “Fine then, what do I do?”

  “Go like this.” He moved behind her and began to gently guide her arm. She felt goosebumps up her body as soon as he touched her.

  “Don’t go thinking you’re just going to yank it back into place,” she said, suddenly alarmed at the prospect that he was going to go try to jam it back by force. She had seen something similar once that resulted in a young boy passing out and waking up several hours later to find his arm in considerably worse condition than before the so-called improvement.

  “Have you still not learned to trust me?” Fiona couldn’t quite tell if Jet’s voice had any playfulness or not, but he took her arm and gently guided it. His motions were slow, steady, and deliberate. There was no yanking or pulling whatsoever.

  She suddenly felt a sharp pressure shoot up her arm when he hit a certain point, and when Jet saw her react, he pushed just slightly farther. A sharp, hellish pain. An uncomfortable popping sound. Fiona felt like little jolts of electricity were shooting through her whole body.

  “There,” Jet said. “Good as new. At least you will be in a couple weeks.”

  “Thank you.”

  He smiled sadly at her and returned to the gardens.

  Fiona took a few moments to test her arm. The sharp pains in it had turned to a dull throb, and though she was far from having full dexterity in it she was able to put it above her head. Feeling grateful that it wasn’t her sword arm that was injured, she turned her attention to Geoff.

  The Lord Defender of Haygarden fluttered in and out of sleep. Fiona fetched some water and gently helped to sit him up. “Drink,” she said, gently. Geoff’s eyes opened, and he smiled at her.

  “Thank you.” His voice was weak, but there was a sentience in his emerald eyes.

  They sat in silence for a time while Geoff recovered his strength enough to speak. A little color came back into his face as he drank more of the water.

  “I’ve been having dreams from my past,” Geoff said. “Memories of things I haven’t hoped would visit me.”

  Fiona nodded, feeling slightly uncomfortable. She didn’t know how much Geoff knew she had overheard him saying in his sleep. “Please, Fiona. Listen to me. I need someone to listen to me. I need to tell you about my journey to Laquath last year.”

  “Laquath?”

  Geoff nodded. “It’s a shame, Fiona… a shame that is too great for me to carry by myself. Please, listen. Judge me as you will, but listen.”

  Something desperate had awoken in Geoff’s eyes that Fiona found deeply unsettling. She took his hands in her own and agreed.

  “It begins so long ago… when I was just a boy in my adolescence. I was the son of a powerful man. I had a duty to my family. But I betrayed that duty. I chose love instead.”

  “Love?” Whatever Fiona had been expecting it had not been that. The thought of Geoff Hightower courting someone was as foreign as the thought of, well, Geoff Hightower as a young man.

  “Aye,” Geoff nodded. “Her name was Taena. She was a young woman of low-birth. I wished to marry her, but my father forbade it. So I conducted the wedding in secret. For half a year we lived in secret bliss.”

  Geoff made a strained expression as if just speaking of such memories caused him great pain. “My father… when he found out… he didn’t mind the child we were to have. In his opinion, such youthful indiscretions were a sign of good health in a young man. But the marriage he could not abide. He had it absolved immediately.”

  “He absolved your wedding?” Fiona asked. “How? No father can do that.”

  Geoff smirked horribly. It was a face Fiona hoped she would never see the old knight make again. “Aye, no father. But Lord Questian was no mere father. His word was law, and with a breath he took everything I loved from me.”

  Fiona’s face felt numb. “Lord Questian?” She furrowed her brow. Was Geoff speaking from a fever dream? “Geoff, that can’t be right. You must be older than Lord Questian.” It was well known that Lord Questian, ruler of Laquath, was in his fifties while Geoff Hightower was approaching his seventh decade.

  Geoff laughed. “You are right and you are wrong. Lord Questian is both younger and older than me.” Fiona wrinkled her brow, waiting for him to explain. “Lord Questian the Third currently rules Laquath. He is my younger brother. He was just a swaddling babe when I left him. I left him my name as a parting gift.”

  “Your name?” Slowly the pieces fell into place in Fiona’s mind. “Lord Questian the Second was your father,” she realized with shock. “You were his firstborn son, Lord Questian the Third!”

  “I was, long ago,” Geoff said. “When I refused to give up my bride and child, I was disinherited. My younger brother’s true name was erased as easily as sand writing whipped away by the wind, and he took on my identity. Surely you must have wondered why a Laquathi like myself woul
d take an eastern name like Hightower.”

  “I never really thought about it,” Fiona confessed. “But that all means… you’re the rightful heir to Laquath!”

  Geoff chuckled, and there was so much pain in it. “No, Fiona. I was the rightful heir. Long ago, in another life. I have not thought on those days in a long time.”

  “So what happened?” Fiona pressed. “After you were banished.”

  “I tried to take my pregnant wife with me, to live out our days in the Lordless Lands. What a life that could have been. But… she vanished.”

  Fiona felt like an icy hand gripped her stomach. “Vanished? How?”

  “I suspect my father’s cruelty. He likely did not want a young Questian the Fourth coming to claim the throne from my brother.” Suddenly Geoff choked and there were tears streaming down his face. “I never knew what happened. When I returned last year to Laquath, I just hoped to find out. I found Taena’s grave. There was no sign of the child. I will die without knowing what became of my son or daughter.”

  Fiona gripped Geoff’s hands even tighter while the old knight bled emotion. Sitting with him in Harken’s house was one of the most painful things she had ever experienced. She had never known. She had never thought to ask.

  “Where did you go?” Fiona asked after a time. “Once you were exiled.”

  Geoff took a moment to settle himself. “I came here, Fiona. To Morrordraed. Forgive me, I don’t have the energy to tell the full tale now. Perhaps a story for another time. I thought I would die here. I slayed monsters and searched for death without finding it.”

  Fiona couldn’t believe what Geoff had told her. The thought of him descending from some sort of nobility was entirely natural, from the way that Geoff carried himself. But she never would have imagined exactly how high and powerful Geoff Hightower might have been had he kept the name of his birth and remained Lord Questian the Third.

  “Fiona. There is a trinket amongst my things. Search for it, if you will. In that swine-hide bag. Wrapped in red cloth.”

  Fiona did as he asked and rummaged through the bag until she found the red cloth. There was something small and weighty inside of it. She peeled it back to reveal a beautiful topaz medallion embedded in two rearing horses carved of ebony, the symbol of Haygarden.

  “It’s beautiful,” she said.

  “It was a gift from Lord Redfire long ago… back when he was a different man. Long before you knew him.” A cloudy look came over Geoff’s emerald eyes as he gazed at the medallion. Fiona knew he was remembering something deeply personal and gave him space to sit with his memories.

  At last Geoff took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Then he looked to Fiona and handed it to her. “It’s yours.”

  “Wha—No, I can’t accept this.”

  “It will serve you better than me. I have all the reputation I need in Haygarden. This medallion will ensure that when you return you are treated with the respect you deserve.”

  Fiona started to speak again but was interrupted. “I’m not done. Haygarden is a mess and you will need to track down some old friends. Gods only know where Donyo Brownwater and Martin Lightwing are. There’s no reason for you to have obstacles of bureaucracy. Take the medallion, Fiona. May it serve you well.”

  “Fine,” Fiona said. “But only if you promise to prove I didn’t steal it from you. Only if you promise to come back with me.”

  Geoff looked at her and smiled. He spoke no words.

  * * *

  After their discussion Geoff needed some more rest so Fiona left him in peace and went outside. The sunlight fell faded yellow on the greenery. She planned to give space to Jet, who was still in the garden by himself, but he called her over.

  “As much as I want to, we can’t rest for long.” Jet spoke steadily, but with a great sadness.

  “The raid has stopped for now though, hasn’t it?”

  Jet nodded. “They were just feeling us out. They didn’t know if we had an army ready to strike at them as soon as our allies were released. Raejo doesn’t want a bloodbath. That’s not in his interest, nor in ours.

  “All the same. He will come back for us. There weren’t many casualties last night on either side. He was looking to frighten us and anyone thinking of helping our cause. But there will be blood spilt soon.”

  “What are we going to do?”

  Jet was silent. The wind whistled through the leaves. It was nearly midmorning, and the day was beginning to get hot despite the thick clouds that rolled in overhead.

  “I don’t have any answers,” he said at last. “I thought when we freed the prisoners, when we freed our friends… I don’t know. I thought something would happen. But we’re just as stuck as we’ve been this whole time. We can’t get ahead.”

  Suddenly, unexpectedly, Jet leapt to his feet and screamed. It was a terrible animal scream. A curse without a word. A sound of pain and anger.

  Fiona placed a hand gently on his back. She felt his breathing rise and fall, saying nothing.

  “How’s the old warrior?” Jet asked.

  “He seems better,” Fiona said. “But nobody is going to be safe with Barrowbog and the rest of the province on the verge of exploding.”

  “I feel like we can’t even risk having another meeting so soon,” Jet said. “Any time we gather together is an opportunity for Raejo to strike us. That last raid at the inn… I wouldn’t admit it to the rest of them but it came this close to wiping us all out. If the timing had been just a little different, our side just a little slower…”

  “But it didn’t,” Fiona said with determination. “We’re still here. There’s still people who believe in this fight. Many of them will be invigorated by what we did at the prison. But we can’t let that momentum go stagnant. We have to act.”

  “I want to. Believe me I do. But I don’t know where to go from here.”

  “To Raejo.”

  He looked at her, eyes wide. “What?”

  “That’s what all of this is about. That’s what it’s always been about. Raejo is the one who started the violence. He’s the one who started mining enough silver to cause disturbances. He’s the one who is giving the orders.”

  “What are you saying?”

  She looked right into his eyes. “I’m saying that there’s only one way that any of this ends. You could fight a long and bloody rebellion that will go on endlessly, drowning the province in blood, or you could go to the man who is the root cause of this and strike him down.”

  “It’s impossible.” Jet was stammering, something Fiona had never seen him do. “He’s too well-guarded.”

  “So was the prison. But look at what we’ve accomplished.”

  “I don’t know. Greythor would say that we’re taking the easy path, but not fixing any of the problems that allowed Raejo to rise.”

  “You’re right about that,” Fiona admitted. “You’ll need to take responsibility for that. As will everyone else in the province. Once Raejo is dead, you will all have to decide how to move forward. But you can’t even think about that now. Raejo has too firm a grip on everything. While he lives, peace isn’t possible.”

  Jet turned away, deep in thought.

  “Listen,” Fiona persisted. “You’re right to think carefully about this. You’re also right that Raejo isn’t the end of the road. He isn’t. Not by a long shot. He’s just the beginning. But he’s a beginning that we need to confront. Unless he’s removed from power, there will be no peace or safety for anyone in Barrowbog, or anywhere else.”

  Jet sighed. He looked so tired. “You’re right,” he said after a time. “Whatever happens afterward, there’s no way we can begin to have peace here while Raejo rules.”

  Fiona nodded. “So what’s the plan then.”

  “We end this. Now.”

  “Now?” Fiona asked. “We’ll need some time to get ready, surely. A few days if not a week.”

  “No.” Jet’s voice was flat and as hard as iron. “The longer we wait the more time we give him to
cause us more hardship. We need to do this. I need to do this. Are you with me?”

  “I am,” she said hesitantly. He caught the pause and looked at her questioningly. “I need to make sure Geoff will be okay. If something should happen to us…”

  Jet nodded silently. “Very well. Going this minute would be foolhardy. You get some sleep. I’ll go to some of my friends and have them come back here to watch the house and assist Geoff. But we don’t have long to wait. Tonight, after we’ve rested, we make our move.”

  “Jet.” She didn’t know how to say it. “Don’t tell anyone what our plans are. No one needs to know but us. It’s safer that way.”

  Jet nodded. She was glad he didn’t take it as an insult. “Fair enough. Sleep soundly, Fiona. Tonight we’re going to end this once and for all.”

  * * *

  She woke to darkness.

  Fiona had hardly felt like her head had touched the pillow when her eyes opened many hours later. The quiet of the house was absolute. Moonlight shone like a silver ghost off of a row of glass bottles on the counter. Geoff’s chest rose and fell silently.

  She met Jet outside. Her shoulder still pained her terribly, but she pushed the thought out of her mind. Fiona knew it was silly to carry the broken dragon-pommel blade on her back when there was no reason to, but for some reason she felt as though she had become accustomed to its weight. After losing it once to Naerumi she wasn’t ready to take it off again.

  They crept through the swamp in silence. Black clouds roiled above them reminding Fiona of the froth of boiling water. She sensed a storm coming.

  Their journey took them north, to the town of Draknun. Though just a small town itself, Draknun was home to the sprawling structure that Lord Raejo lived in. Part palace, part castle, Lord Raejo’s dwelling used to be a temple for priests and wizards of Morrordraed. Raejo’s first official act after rising to power was to declare the beautiful temple his own through his allodial rights. No one challenged him.